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How To Hunt Big Game
What is your Best Hunting Story?
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<blockquote data-quote="M77Fan" data-source="post: 3105900" data-attributes="member: 115996"><p>This one is unforgettable.</p><p></p><p>I was hunting a special unit in Colorado that had required a bunch of preference points to draw. Early backpack scouting trips showed us several 6 point bulls in velvet, a good promise for the upcoming season. The first few days of the hunt produced no sightings of bulls, but I had elk encounters pretty much nose to nose. The following description is a clip out of an account I wrote not long after the hunt, so I could remember it. </p><p></p><p>Dawn found me deep into the cleft behind the cool ridge where I had found the elk two days before. I worked farther into the dark timber, four miles from camp, hurrying across the hot openings, and slowing in the thick stuff. The sun was starting to get high when I heard the bugle. Elk! And there was a bull. Now if I could only catch up to them. I searched the woods ahead with binoculars but could see nothing. Advancing around the curve of the hill toward a small drainage, I could hear the faint trickle of an ice-rimmed streamlet. They might be headed there, or just leaving. </p><p></p><p>Then as I entered a small clearing with a scattering of tiny lodgepoles, I saw a flicker of movement. They were coming my way! No time to find cover. I knelt where I was, partly in the sun partly in the shade. I snatched my orange hat off, placing it on the ground. I could only hope the intensity of my blaze orange vest wouldn't attract too much attention. A minute passed. There, a cow elk coming to my right, a calf, another cow, then a cow to my left, and another, and another, and calves! The breeze was directly in my face. <em>Could this possibly work?</em> The closest cow finally turned away from me at a distance of a few feet. Now I could no longer see five of the elk in the clearing with me. They were behind me! I could move only incrementally, painfully slowly to keep track. I already had my rifle up, waiting. Where <u>was</u> the bull? I knew that as soon as one animal crossed my scent stream the jig was up. I had cows and calves at distances varying from 5 to 30 yards, and more coming. I was about to explode with adrenaline and stress. </p><p></p><p>Then finally an antler appeared above a screen of lodgepole saplings. He was coming to the left, sheltered by large tree trunks and small trees. He stopped behind a big tree trunk. More waiting! My .338 spoke as soon as his shoulder cleared the last trunk, 13 paces away. He lunged, wobbled, tried to jump, then somersaulted down the hill and lay still, one antler dug into the ground. The cows milled around, confused, until I stood up amongst them, then they bolted. He wasn't the monster we had come for, in fact, I fondly refer to him as my "four by stub". One antler was broken off short and rubbed round, the other was missing points. That bull had been a scrapper. It is the smallest, least impressive rack I have ever collected, but my favorite because it brings back the adrenaline rush of that hunt every time I handle it. At 8 miles from the trailhead, the pack out was also memorable.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="M77Fan, post: 3105900, member: 115996"] This one is unforgettable. I was hunting a special unit in Colorado that had required a bunch of preference points to draw. Early backpack scouting trips showed us several 6 point bulls in velvet, a good promise for the upcoming season. The first few days of the hunt produced no sightings of bulls, but I had elk encounters pretty much nose to nose. The following description is a clip out of an account I wrote not long after the hunt, so I could remember it. Dawn found me deep into the cleft behind the cool ridge where I had found the elk two days before. I worked farther into the dark timber, four miles from camp, hurrying across the hot openings, and slowing in the thick stuff. The sun was starting to get high when I heard the bugle. Elk! And there was a bull. Now if I could only catch up to them. I searched the woods ahead with binoculars but could see nothing. Advancing around the curve of the hill toward a small drainage, I could hear the faint trickle of an ice-rimmed streamlet. They might be headed there, or just leaving. Then as I entered a small clearing with a scattering of tiny lodgepoles, I saw a flicker of movement. They were coming my way! No time to find cover. I knelt where I was, partly in the sun partly in the shade. I snatched my orange hat off, placing it on the ground. I could only hope the intensity of my blaze orange vest wouldn't attract too much attention. A minute passed. There, a cow elk coming to my right, a calf, another cow, then a cow to my left, and another, and another, and calves! The breeze was directly in my face. [I]Could this possibly work?[/I] The closest cow finally turned away from me at a distance of a few feet. Now I could no longer see five of the elk in the clearing with me. They were behind me! I could move only incrementally, painfully slowly to keep track. I already had my rifle up, waiting. Where [U]was[/U] the bull? I knew that as soon as one animal crossed my scent stream the jig was up. I had cows and calves at distances varying from 5 to 30 yards, and more coming. I was about to explode with adrenaline and stress. Then finally an antler appeared above a screen of lodgepole saplings. He was coming to the left, sheltered by large tree trunks and small trees. He stopped behind a big tree trunk. More waiting! My .338 spoke as soon as his shoulder cleared the last trunk, 13 paces away. He lunged, wobbled, tried to jump, then somersaulted down the hill and lay still, one antler dug into the ground. The cows milled around, confused, until I stood up amongst them, then they bolted. He wasn't the monster we had come for, in fact, I fondly refer to him as my "four by stub". One antler was broken off short and rubbed round, the other was missing points. That bull had been a scrapper. It is the smallest, least impressive rack I have ever collected, but my favorite because it brings back the adrenaline rush of that hunt every time I handle it. At 8 miles from the trailhead, the pack out was also memorable. [/QUOTE]
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